


Rough men in a rough city during rough times.

by tomboyscoutt



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Domestic, Drugs, F/M, Film Noir, Fluff, Homophobic Language, Italian Mafia, M/M, Murder, Period-Typical Homophobia, Smuggling, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-16 16:33:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3495275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomboyscoutt/pseuds/tomboyscoutt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the New Jersey of the decade of the forties.                                                  House has finally reached some stability with his doctor Wilson. Despite not being able to share his brand new happiness with the outside world, the doctor may have made the tough detective less reluctant to believe in angels. In order to ruin everything, Greg takes up a new case, which involves his life, once again, in a tangle of shooting, Mafia families, newly found passions and a glance to a whole new disgusting perspective of New Jersey City. Where Hell knows angels don't exist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The detective and his doctor.

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a previous fic. As long as I am unable to write a proper URL, I`ll leave the name and the original work here: "Can't take my eyes off of you", by the user Flywoman. The story and the Ocs are mine, but not the characters from House MD. or the idea of getting them into this AU(that last one belongs to the author of the previous work, link below) . Please, please,please comment!!!!!!  
> The lnk to the original work is:  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/search?utf8=%E2%9C%93&work_search%5Bquery%5D=house+wilson+film+noir

The sun could go piss itself off when the bed was more comfortable than the outside world. Dammit, since when it was so bright in New Jersey in the mornings?  
Greg growled uncomfortably and rolled to his side in the bed. By doing that, he disengaged himself from James's arms. The youngest guy didn't give up not even sleeping, so he tangled his limbs around the man's body again. House didn't really mind, so he just yawned and lied back on his side of the pillow. James's hair smelled like the shampoo he would use everyday to wash his hair, that one that made House wanna throw up, claiming that it smelled like one of those nail salons ladies would go to have tea with their girl friends and hear the latest gossips. The amount of time the young doctor spent on his beauty routines such as washing his hair or getting a clean shaven-and for sure Greg knew it was not only about his face he was thinking-made him wondered how it hadn't been clear enough for anyone who knew him the way he swang, even though he was one to talk, as he didn't know how much fun he could get by swinging and swinging. But it was not only about Wilson's abundantly pleasant physical appearance that House was thinking; it was his charm. Since the very first moment, James knew exactly what to do or say to seduce House; either by his voice tone or his elegant gestures. In a few days, House found himself being called "pretty" or "baby", the nicknames he used to to give to the women he usually wanted to have under his thumb, and he realised he was being seduced. James was no filthy, simple man himself: he was a romantic. Nothing like he would settle romantic dinners by the candles or buy the other guy bouquets of flowers, he knew that crap would have no effect on House. He instead would greet him with a cold beer when he got into his home-he had given him the key after he realised Greg would spend more time in his house than in his own-, or grabbing his arm as they walked together past the streets, regardless of what people may say. Apparently, he was anything but ashamed about public displays of affection, such as kissing his cheek or stroking his hand with his pinkie while they were sitting on a café, something with which House was much less that comfortable around. Wilson didn't seem to care either. It was obvious that he had done that before. Then it came their first night together, and then it became a constant. His first experience with a man was indeed a stimulating one; he had never tried anything like that before: the roughness and hardness of the skin and curves was something new to him, along with the magnificent new strength and passion he had never found before with a woman in his arms. Both active and passive jobs had been a mysterious sensation he had felt like pleasuring steel to his body, getting more and more used to be in the company of that man, inside and out of the bedroom.  
House yawned again, this time loudly enough to wake his partner up. Wilson blinked sleepily and looked at his partner face with his eyes narrowed. He smiled and that made House smile.  
-Morning, pretty eyes- Wilson rub the top of his index all over Greg's face, his chin, his nose and his lips. House doubted if he had to say somethig sassy or just give an equally tender response. Surprisingly, he only worried about his answers when being with this man. He decided to rise an eyebrow and wait for the guy to give him his good morning kiss. Effectively, James leant to kiss him, and in his way, brushed his legs against House's. He let him rest his face on his shoulder and play with his chest fuzz. His hands were so warm in contrast to Greg's freezing body and legs.  
-I'm cold, I want cuddles-House pouted like a schoolboy so Wilson would find that endearing and hug him, also hoping for some post-hugging, more adult orientated fun. Wilson chuckled and wrapped his waist between his arms, his chest against his side.  
-As a compensation for that, you'll make me a nice breakfast today.  
-Well, you could have breakfast or you could have...  
They kissed again, shamelessly, exploring every available inch of each others mouth, as Wilson moved slowly his warm hands down on Greg's waist and tights.  
The ringing of the telephone got them back from Heaven to Earth.  
Wilson grouched but House continued with his duty, taking his guy's lips with his teeth, craving for some attention from them and those damn warm hands.   
-I need to get that-Wilson started to excuse himself.  
-What for?-House was not going to let him leave him just like some hired company lady.  
-It’s business, I’ll be right back-James kissed him again and grabbed some of the covers to avoid going around the house naked. Greg was obviously not going to wait patiently on bed while becoming ass-cold, so he got up from bed, picked the first shirt he found on the floor and what he remembered that were his boxers, and followed Wilson around the house.  
When he arrived to the living room, he found his man still holding the covers around his arse and slightly bent over the coffee table while speaking on the phone. He found that pose quite arousing.  
-I clearly stated I needed it for tomorrow…-James was for sure disappointed-. No, just don't try to butter me up with lame excuses, you and your guys will definitely see consequences for this! I don't give a damn, you understand? Now, if you please, get what we had dealed. I have guests here.  
He hung the phone and sighed heavily. While Greg was not much of a good comforter himself, but he wanted his cutie in the warm bed again, so he hugged him from behind and slightly licked his neck. Surprisingly, Wilson refused the hug and walked towards the room.  
-Not now, please-he said.  
As much angry House could have got because of his prtner's behaviour, he followed him to the bedroom and yell:  
-What on Earth was that?-he received no answer. When he enterd the main bedroom he saw James was getting dressed with neat clean clothes, sign that he was about to leave-. What is wrong with you now?  
-I just… got this call from work and it seems that I kind of have to go. Meet you for lunch?  
-What the hell do you think this is? A diner?-Greg looked highly offended, no wonder actually, he had already been talked to like a hooker twice in that morning and for sure he wouldn't be tolerating one more attempt. He started dressing himself as quickly as he could so we could leave frowning and with the accurate amount of indignation.  
-No baby, please...Wilson stated.  
-Tsss, don't “baby” me now, go managing your freaking business.  
Greg started to walk out of the room with his shirt half-buttoned, his pants unclasped and his shoes on his hand, willing to stay in that man´s house if he was about to leave without making him any breakfast.  
-Greg please, come back-James wrapped his arms around him from behind, caressing the bare skin of his stomach. Damn Wilson and his warm hands.  
-I'm sorry about this, really. It was totally unplanned-he pressed the bridge of his nose against Greg's neck and cuddled him tightly. House would not give in but stopped buttoning his shirt up and let his arms hang languidly at his sides. His damn bad leg was starting to ache as if it was being put inside a bucket of ice and then burnt. In a regular situation, pushing the other warm body away would seem just the sensible thing to do, if your personal space is being invaded while dealing with a visible moment of easily breakable patience. Instead, the flame of warm comfort that waved all over James made him stand still in the centre of the room, waiting for the trance to break rather than a reasonable argument.  
-I didn’t come across my mind until right now, I know it's too late for lame excuses, but I really have to go or so I'm getting my bollocks sliced.  
Oh, Greg did not want any piece of Wilson's anatomy to have that end. He kept on getting dressed in silence when Wilson stepped in front of him and help him getting his wrinkled shirt fixed. The two slight curves between his bushy eyebrows reflex hi anxiety but the playful grin he was showing was trying to be much more comforting. He finished and placed a kiss on House's forehead, stepping on his tip toes. They stood together, silent again, for a little longer, and then Greg broke the contact at the point when it started being too compromising. Leading to the door, and knowing James would follow him to his car if necessary, Greg dropped:  
-You know where my office is, so I'm expecting you to come over with punctuality at lunchtime, preferably carrying something sandwich and coffee-shaped, all paid by you of course.  
-Friendly reminder that I'm always the one who pays, but you're such cutie how could I deny you anything?- Wilson tangled his arms around Greg's neck for a kiss, to which the other man responded, before realizing they were already standing in the yard, in the public's eye.  
-What did I tell you about touching my butt when we are public?- House started to push Wilson away, but kept smiling.  
-Lord, you do read minds- James kissed is cheek one more time and backed off slowly-. Go get those assholes, cutie.


	2. What do ladies want to be treated like?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time, to add weight to Greg's challenge of dealing with his personal situation , a new lady comes in scene, as usual, to bring more trouble. Her name: Lisa J. Cuddy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you soooooo much guys for waiting and please, give this story a chance, I'm putting my best into it. As before, the idea of setting the characters in this historical period belongs to the author "Flywoman", with her ao3 fic " I can't take my eyes off of you". Please enjoy the rest of the creation, which belongs to me( except for House MD characters).  
> PS.: I don't know if Cudy has a second name but I liked the idea.

Greg arrived at his office a couple of hours later, with a plausible excuse to blame the traffic, in worse mood than it was usual, partly due to the lack of breakfast. The other mad half in him was about not knowing what Wilson was about that morning to possibly kick him out of his bed and house. Not knowing things was a dry pain between his temples, burning like acid over the hood of a car.   
He stormed half sleep-walking into the first empty room that made the half of his office. The couple of pieces were slightly gloomy from the tremulous light beams that made their way through the couple of windows in the left wall. The paper on the walls was a piece of history itself. It was looking old and darkened by the years and the war, stained, yellow and green pistachio striped, and who knows if the home sweet home of a family of cockroaches or any other little pets. During war, it sheltered for a few years a group of foreign journalist too controversial or Jewish to wander freely along the streets. In the end, the got tossed in the streets, but their written was known for making much louder noise that any bullet they could possibly have received after that.  
Standing on a seventh floor, the view from the improvised waiting room encompassed the greatest buildings of New Jersey, as well as providing a quite clear view of the dungiest, more perverted street and dead end alleys, where working class men would mix with the filthiest gangs that could make any favours to them, flattening their road, they said, only with the view if a little retribution that would cause the any more troubles. The alleys where the dirtiest business and commerces were committed, the most scandalous still best silenced kidnappings, murders and other stuff which would have God itself shaking. Wandering along streets at any hour of the day, powerful men would make seductive women work to their interests; powerful, seductive women would make foolish, hopeless men summit to their own interest and their bosses'. And those last men would ultimately finishing the circle by being able to finally sleep, knowing that their dirty jobs were being done by those who were to leave no clue. And so was the circle of insane morbidness.   
People as House were thought to be out of that circle, apparently at least. Their function differed in its direct purpose from those of the ones in there. Not that men like House were any special or outstanding from the bosses of the great business; they were regular men, just like them, so they can get easily mixed with the crowd and perform their job efficiently. And silently. And anonymously. It was not very clear for regular citizens where did men like Greg, or his occasional companions came from. You'd be more likely to, either not tell them apart in a public place, because, as they claim, they are just regular, either be desperately in search of them, and found the digging underground. There was no place to get to find them if they didn't want you to. And solitude was thankfully received most of the times.  
As if it was his own house, which was partially true, Greg entered his quarter and threw his coat aiming for the hang and eventually reaching the floor.   
The man ignored if his lassie and helper was at work at that instant, or instead, philandering around her new blondie bag of man meat. Wishing to obtain some good sleep after a proper breakfast, House stretched up, search the bottle of his Johnny Walker and poured some in a tiny glass. That was the brand Wilson used to take, so he ended up getting used to it. With the heavy taste of the scotch under his tongue, he proceeded to take a well deserved nap on his armchair- not the best bed, but still better a pain in the neck than being a walking ghost.   
The instant after he had found the right position to gradually fall into the arms of Morpheus, he doorbell rung. Not the best of the times. Greg grumbled and yellew:  
-Allison, whether that's you or not, this is certainly not the right mom...ma mia.  
He stopped speaking suddenly. A woman had entered the room without knocking or even asking first. Great deal of confidence, he had to admit. But that only had his brain busy very few seconds, to let his eyes travel all over the female they had in front of them. From her head down to her toes, she was all curves, thin like a champagne glass but with hips rounded as an orange. That was totally not Cameron, not that she was no attractive herself but the lady in front of him expired confidence. Her gaze was ice in a sea of blue water, far colder than her generous lips and bust. The brunette wore neat, expensive clothes, probably imported, Italian. Gazing down the doll's legs, House tried to focus on her shoes; shoes told a very important piece of the information the face didn't want to reveal. Before he could notice, the woman had already taken a sit and was staring at him willing to start talking.  
-Make yourself at home, please-sarcasm was the best way to initiate a conversation you would want to dominate in the end.  
-To set things clearly, I'm absolutely hopeless; I really need to find an answer for my problem, and I've only heard of you as the man who cold be able to do that for me- the doll showed a firm, impassible tone. Started determined, see how long it would take for it to weaken.  
-You'll say Miss ...  
-My name is Lisa Joy Cuddy. I have a little brother, Andrew. We were raised in Missouri in a farm. I was happy but Andrew never liked the country life, so as soon as he completed the military service and gathered the money, he moved to New Jersey. He claimed that he wanted to get to the big ones- in spite of having listened that same speech hundreds of times, the lady's voice was different, smooth like cream over a coffee-.After three years, my parents told me to go watch him, because we hadn't been receiving any news from him for a while. So I did what I was asked. I came and established here, only to find out that…-and there it was, that little moment in every narration when they broke down-Andrew was involved with that damned Italian Mafia -House could expect something like that. An uneducated farm boy just arrived to the city and wanted to make it big, if he had some brains he wouldn't like to be in the spotlight of a crime. He'd be silent. He was just the perfect target-. I spoke with him once ,by telephone. H e said that he was about to make such money that no one in our family would need to work in the farm anymore, but if anyone found out, he and that anyone would have a very bad time. That was eleven months ago. I waited as long as I could to be ready If he showed up, but he obviously didn't.  
House had been listening carefully to every single word, from what he made an idea inside his brain, and then connected ideas together, turning into a map. He grabbed a little crystal pyramid he liked to kept on his desk and played with it between his fingers, to then handle it to Lisa Darling.  
-If the base is a loyal dog and the top, a cigar smoker procurer, how manipulative and willing to kill would you pin your brother for?  
The woman looked astonished for a moment, then gently put the figurine back on the desk and stated, in the softest and most serious tone:  
\- My brother has been with me long enough for me to keep in mind that he would literally do anything for money. Your job is to bring him back to me, don't care if he's dissuaded from that idea or not. We want him back.  
-Easy doll, easy- House said diligently, as well as fairly impressed by the female's voice inner strength-. I have some rules too, myself. Firstly, I'm gonna need much more than a graceful genetic example to know what your Andrew is like, maybe like a picture. And secondly, I never work without a proper incentive. Preferably monetary.  
Lisa smiled, and made Greg's eyes wide and round as the Moon itself. It was the pure image of seduction and challenge. That was fascinating. She picked an old vignette photograph from her label purse and slide it across the table, until the space in between House's hands.  
-Here's the picture you needed and I'm sure you have just had your own mind incentive, if I've heard well from you. Find Andrew, and you get to choose your way of compensation- she smiled again, and so did House.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your attention and please feel free to constructively criticise.

**Author's Note:**

> Please I will tirelessly beg for reviews and kudos!!!!!


End file.
